Stealing Beauty Excerpt
Valentina
My husband’s beady black eyes fixed on me from across the chapel, where he had taken his place at the altar as best man. He locked me in his cruel, possessive gaze, and his thin lips curved into a malicious smile.
An involuntary shudder wracked my body. Hugo had looked at me with the exact same expression ten years ago, when I’d been forced to the altar against my will. I’d only been sixteen at the time, but Hugo hadn’t minded being wedded to a child. He’d waited too long for his turn with me to care.
And as my guardian, Vicente had given me away to his best friend, gifting me to him in exchange for his years of loyalty.
I could hardly bear to look at either of the disgusting, lecherous men. Somehow, I managed to make it through the farce of a wedding—Vicente’s second, to a young woman who was as unwilling as I’d been all those years ago—without being sick.
The ceremony passed by in an awful blur. I muddled through the service and the limo ride to the reception venue in tense silence, afraid that I’d vomit if I opened my mouth.
When we reached the castle where the reception was being held, I lifted my chin, straightened my spine, and stepped through the imposing double doors. I couldn’t allow anyone to sense that my fear-drenched memories of my own wedding night were playing through my mind.
I collected my wits, clenching my fists at my sides to still my shaking fingers. My perfectly manicured nails bit into my palms, but I welcomed the little flare of pain. It helped ground me. Pain reminded me of my role, my duties.
I’d receive a lot more of it if I didn’t play my part perfectly: devoted wife to Hugo Sánchez, the second most powerful man in Bogotá.
The most powerful man, Vicente Rodríguez, was the reason I was here, participating in this farce.
Camila Gómez had the misfortune of catching Vicente’s eye a year ago. The eighteen-year-old had gotten pregnant, giving him a son. He’d decided to force her into marriage to ensure the boy’s legitimacy. A secondary heir to his cocaine empire, in case something were to happen to his firstborn son, Adrián.
Adrián Rodríguez. I could hardly believe the boy I’d loved all those years ago had turned into the hard, frightening man who’d glowered at me during the service. I couldn’t see him now, but I could still feel his cruel glare on my back. It made my skin pebble with a prey’s awareness, my body instinctively sensing the threat nearby.
We’d fallen in love while we were teenagers, both imprisoned on his cruel father’s estate. But for the last decade, he’d been in America, consolidating the power of his family’s cartel in California. I’d never expected to see him again, but Vicente’s wedding to poor Camila had brought the prodigal son home to Colombia.
Hugo wrapped his arm around my waist, but I stepped away as my stomach lurched. Over the years, I’d become numb to his touch. Tonight, it made my skin crawl. The memories of my own forced wedding night threatened to bubble up, and bile rose in my throat.
“Excuse me,” I murmured. I couldn’t come up with a good reason to leave Hugo’s side, and I knew I’d pay for abandoning him later.
But all I could think about was fleeing from his slimy touch and rank scent.
I moved too quickly as I headed for the stairs, seeking privacy on the second level of the castle. No guests lingered around the banister on the upper floor, and I darted for the solace of a quiet room, where I could break down without witnesses.
The only thing worse than leaving Hugo standing alone in the foyer would be making a public scene. He’d be able to shrug off my sudden absence as the result of illness—I was sure I’d appeared pinched and pale enough to warrant that excuse.
No matter if the guests accepted his reasoning, he wouldn’t allow me to go unpunished.
I could only hope that he’d wait until we were back on our estate. It was the most likely scenario. He wouldn’t want to leave marks on me at this garish event; above all, he wanted others to believe that I truly was his devoted, loving wife. Anything less would be humiliating.
The second most powerful man in Bogotá couldn’t have a disobedient wife. Hugo had made sure to break me and turn me into his adoring spouse a long time ago.
That had been after Adrián left me.
The boy I loved had left Colombia ten years ago, and he’d never come back. He let Hugo torment me and turn me into his perfectly polished, soulless plaything.
Now, Adrián lurked downstairs with the rest of the sharks. The man who’d glowered at me in the church might wear the boy’s face, but he wasn’t here to rescue me.
I’d given up on that foolish fantasy a long time ago, anyway.
I slipped into the first open room I found, closing the door behind me. Books lined the walls, gold lettering gleaming on darkly colored spines. The unique scent of leather-bound books helped calm me. The library on Hugo’s estate was the place where I most often found solace from him, losing myself in fiction for hours. I took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar smell. It helped calm my nerves and my nausea.
The door clicked open behind me, and I spun with a shocked yelp.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Hugo’s ruddy cheeks were redder than usual, almost purple with rage.
I took a hasty step back, raising my hands to ward him off.
Surely, he wouldn’t strike me. Not here. Not now.
I hadn’t prepared myself for the pain of his fists yet.
He slammed the door shut behind him, advancing on me. I backed up farther, until my butt hit the desk behind me. He leaned over me, pressing his hips against mine to pin me in place.
“I’m sorry,” I squeaked. “I’m not feeling well.”
“I don’t give a fuck how you’re feeling.” His spittle hit my cheek, and I cringed away. “You think you can embarrass me in front of all our guests?”
I shook my head wildly. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry,” I repeated, desperate.
He leaned closer, so I could feel his putrid breath on my face. “I should bend you over this desk and fuck you raw.” His cock jerked against my thigh as his cruel arousal rose along with his violence. “But I’d rather not have anyone hear you scream. You want to show me how sorry you are?”
I nodded frantically. “Yes. I really am sorry.”
He stepped back. “Get on your knees. You know what to do.”
The sick feeling in my gut intensified, my stomach churning. I sank to my knees, playing the part of obedient wife.
He quickly freed his cock. It jutted toward my face, seeking the reluctant heat of my mouth.
I swallowed against the tang of bile on my tongue.
“Suck it,” he seethed. “Show me you’re sorry, and I won’t beat the shit out of you when we get home.”
Tears stung at the corners of my eyes as humiliation washed over me. I blinked them back. I wouldn’t cry for him.
“Now,” he snarled, thrusting his hips toward my lips.
I turned my face in revulsion, and his pre-cum wet my cheek.
He gripped my jaw, holding my head steady. “You’ll pay for that later.”
The door to the library opened, and my shame spiked. I couldn’t bear to have anyone witness my degradation.
A fierce growl filled the room, and Hugo was ripped away from me. I watched in dumbstruck silence as Adrián tackled him to the floor. His massive fist connected with Hugo’s jaw. My husband’s head snapped to the side, blood spraying from his lips. Adrián didn’t stop. He pummeled Hugo’s face repeatedly, until crimson coated his knuckles and Hugo went completely still.
For a few long seconds, Adrián loomed over him, breathing hard. His lips peeled back from his teeth in a silent snarl, and his dark hair fell around his angular face, no longer arranged in its meticulous style.
Finally, he pushed to his feet and turned to me. He towered over me where I remained on my knees, frozen in place by shock at the sudden, violent display. His pale green eyes burned into me, and another feral sound slipped between his clenched teeth.
He reached for me with bloody hands. I shrank back, but that didn’t deter him. His long fingers sank into my upper arms, yanking me to my feet.
He glowered at me for a moment, saying nothing. I shuddered in his grip, but I didn’t dare struggle against him. I’d learned a long time ago that struggling only earned me more pain.
Hugo groaned, stirring at our feet.
Adrián’s jaw ticked, but his shoulders relaxed, as though a decision had settled over him.
His grip shifted to my waist, and I shrieked as he tossed me over his shoulder.
His hand firmed on my upper thigh, squeezing hard enough to leave a mark. “Don’t fight me,” he ground out.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice shaking as fear suffused my system.
“I’m taking you.”